The Tender Flame (19 page)

‘No,' she croaked. ‘I . . . I'm sorry, but I can't m-marry you.'

‘The traditional turn-down, Jan?' There was surprise in his voice.

And reproach in hers as she said: ‘You know that's not my style. I can't marry you, and now I'm going. And that's the end of it.'

‘I won't detain you,' he said. True to his word he didn't put out a staying hand as she crossed to the door and opened it. ‘But that's
not
the end of it,' he added ominously.

* * *

Jan slept badly, tossing and turning and finally waking up in a panic to see that it was nine-thirty. She was surprised that Stephanie, who should have been taken to play-school half an hour ago, hadn't bounced in, demanding that she wake up. She scurried into the bathroom, washed and dressed, and paid scant attention to the pale little face in the mirror above the wash-basin.

Downstairs, only her father was there to witness her hurried descent.

‘Where is everybody?' she asked.

‘David's gone to work. Your mother's taken Stephanie to that school effort of hers, and on her way back she's calling in at the newsagent's because the paper boy has missed us again.'

Jan smiled tolerantly. ‘He's not good at getting up in the mornings, either. He constantly runs the risk of being late for school, and with Larkspur Cottage being at the very end of the village . . .' She left it there. ‘I take it everybody has had breakfast?'

‘Except you.'

‘I'll skip it this morning. I'm not hungry.'

‘You look peaky,' her father said critically. ‘Is something bothering you?'

Jan's eyes, the famous Ashton eyes, lightened to green good humour as she said
with
a deprecating shake of the equally famous Ashton rich chestnut hair: ‘Never could keep anything from you, Dad. I want to come home with you when you go.'

‘For a holiday?'

‘For good.'

‘What does David say?'

‘I haven't told him yet.'

Her father gave her a sage look. ‘This wouldn't be an emotional decision, would it, Jan?'

‘I don't know. I only know it's the right decision for me.'

‘For you, Jan? That's not your usual slant of things. What about Stephanie?'

‘Stephanie will be all right. She's got David.' She had no idea what a very revealing thing she had said.

Had she looked at her father she would have seen the relaxing of his expression as he replied: ‘So have you.'

‘What?'

‘Got David . . . to deal with, that is.'

‘Oh . . . yes.'

‘Can you manage? Or do you want a bit of fatherly weight behind you?'

‘Would you give me it if I said yes?' She permitted herself a small mischievous smile. ‘Or would you say what you did that time when I was a little girl and came in crying because the big girls had taken my doll and pram from me.'

‘It
doesn't seem all that long ago at that,' he said nostalgically, ‘but perhaps you can refresh my memory. What did I say?'

‘You told me I was big enough to stand-up for myself and you made me go back and face them. You said shirking problems was a bad habit to get into and I may as well start as you intended me to carry on.'

‘Did I? What a wise father you've got.'

‘Yes I have. Oh, I do love you.'

‘I love you. We're lucky, you know, in our family, that we can say that so easily. Three little words. I love you. They roll off the tongue. Yet some people don't find it an easy thing to say at all. Some people find it most difficult. I suppose it's a family thing, whether they say it, or express it in other ways. Yes, we're lucky in our family. All it needs to know you're loved is a reasonable pair of ears, not an astute piece of detective work.'

‘What are you going on about?'

‘You are quite right. I am rattling a bit, aren't I? Ah! Here is your mother.'

His face lit up in a smile, as it always did when she came into the room he was in. It was a reciprocal thing. It was nice to have parents who, after twenty-three years of marriage, could still light up for each other. But Jan thought there was also a flicker of relief on her father's bright face, as if on this occasion he was glad to see her mother because it put an end to his conversation with her.

Her
mother announced that she would like to go to Harrogate for the day. When her father asked if it was for the purpose of leisurely browsing or serious shopping, the prompt reply was that he should take his cheque book with him.

Jan was surprised not to be asked to go with them, and in a way she was glad. She wanted to give the cottage a thorough going over so that it would be in tip-top order when she left. While her parents were out of the way it would give her the opportunity she had been looking for.

She had finished washing down the doors and was concentrating on the skirting board and window-sills, when the phone rang.

It was Martin on the line, sounding very sorry for himself indeed.

‘I'm in desperate need of cheering up. I thought around, and of all my friends I selected you, sweet, kind, sympathetic Jan, as being the most qualified for the job.'

‘Oh dear, I do hope I justify your faith in me. I'm not in a very cheering-somebody-up mood. What's the trouble?'

‘I've done something so silly, it's unbelievable. I thought I was getting a tiny bit too paunchy, and so I enrolled at one of those health clinics. You know, squash, saunas, that sort of thing. Anyway, they gave me a list of exercises to do. All highly tested and very commendable, only I started to do them
without
first taking the precaution of removing my dressing-gown. Wouldn't you know, I tripped over the damned cord, put myself out and ended up in the casualty ward of the hospital and now my arm is in a pot.'

‘Oh, Martin, you idiot!'

‘Do you mind! I feel bashed about as it is without being called names. If you're going to be like that, I'll ring off.' He sounded petulant.

‘No, don't do that. Are you working?' An idea was beginning to buzz round in her mind.

‘Not a chance. It's my right arm. I'm practically immobilised.'

‘In that case—' She took a deep breath—‘Why don't you come up here for a few days and be pampered?'

‘That is the most tempting offer I've had so far. But . . . I don't see how I can drive my car with a broken arm,' he said plaintively.

‘Have you never heard of public transport? There's a perfectly good rail service that will drop you off within a stone's throw of here.'

‘But, sweetie, trains are so tedious.'

‘Oh well, if you don't want to come.'

‘Did I say that?'

‘It would only be a one-way strain because my parents are here and you'll be able to get a lift back with them.'

‘And here I was thinking you were out to compromise me. I shall swallow my disappointment and see you some time this evening.'

As
Jan set the phone to rest, smiling a little at Martin's audacity, she felt that she had taken a step in the right direction. She wasn't quite sure what she had in mind, but she felt that in some way Martin's presence would make it easier to resist David. She had never needed extra weight to shore up her defences against any man before, and she wasn't too proud of the fact that she was prepared to use Martin as a sort of ballast. It was weak of her, but necessary, and it wouldn't hurt Martin. Martin's affections were shallow, which was why he could flit from her to Tara and back again to her. Next week he would probably have his sights set on some other girl. He was too much of a lightweight to be deeply hurt.

It occurred to her that she hadn't realised this before because most of the young men of her acquaintance were of the same calibre, until she met David. Would it always be like this from now on? Would she measure every man she met against David, and find him lacking, because David's strength of character was unique?

She wished that Martin could have been installed in Larkspur Cottage before her parents returned from their shopping expedition, and then she could have presented him as a fait accompli. As it was, she had to explain to her mother that Martin would be arriving shortly.

Her mother's smile disappeared. She said
gravely:
‘I hope you know what you are doing, Jan.' Unexpectedly she added, ‘Don't make a proud man humble himself too much.'

What did her mother mean? A proud man. She couldn't be referring to Martin.

‘I'm not playing one off against the other, if that's what you mean.'

‘That's the last thought I would entertain in connection with you, Jan. Such a devious ploy wouldn't enter your head, and even if it did, your ‘one and only' complex wouldn't let you give a very convincing performance. You have a lot of praiseworthy characteristics, Jan, many of them inherited from your Grandmother Ashton, but I wish she hadn't passed her inflexible outlook on to you. You would save yourself a lot of trouble if your reasoning could be a bit more elastic.'

Her mother hadn't spoken frivolously. There was thought and meaning behind her words, but Jan couldn't come up with a sensible interpretation.

‘He loves you, Jan. Can't you see?'

‘Who, Martin?'

‘Not Martin. He only loves himself.'

Who then? David? Did he? Could he? Her mother was biased. She couldn't see how anyone could not love her darling daughter.

She sighed, and put her mind back to the problem of where to sleep Martin. In normal circumstances she would have given him the sofa in the living room, but that would be
lumpy
comfort for a man with a broken arm. Poor Martin. He never could stand pain and he'd always yelled before he was hurt. As a little boy his mouth had turned down when things weren't going exactly his way, and he hadn't altered in this respect. Only one thing for it, he would have to have her room and she would have to double up with Stephanie. Stephanie's bed wasn't very big, but luckily neither was she or Stephanie.

‘You can help me change the sheets and pillowcases on my bed for Martin,' she informed the little girl.

Normally, Stephanie loved to ‘help'. It was most unlike her to answer listlessly, ‘All right.'

‘Don't you want me in your bed?' Jan asked. ‘I don't kick.'

Stephanie summoned up a giggle. ‘I do. Sometimes I kick Tatty Bear right out of bed.'

‘Poor Tatty Bear,' said Jan.

If she hadn't been so wrapped up in her own affairs she would have spotted Stephanie's flushed cheeks and waxy pallor, and taken more notice of her apathy. As it was, Stephanie's lethargic mood went unheeded as she concentrated her attentions on the other invalid.

He arrived in a very sorry-for-himself state of mind. The train had arrived late and instead of trying to make up the time it had crawled from station to station at a tediously slow pace. He had been lumbered with a talkative
woman,
and the child on the seat behind him had divided his time between kicking Martin's seat and wiping his toffee-sticky hands round the back of his neck. He couldn't shave properly, tie a tie or a shoelace, hence the fact that he was wearing an open-necked shirt and casual slip-on shoes, both of which he deplored. But above all he was bored, bored, bored! And he hoped Jan had got a good evening lined up for him.

The early night that Jan had thought Martin would appreciate was never proposed. She was still wildly searching her brain for inspiration when her mother said: ‘Why don't you put the steak back in the fridge, Jan, borrow your father's car, and take Martin out for a meal? I will be happy to babysit.'

In default of a better idea, Jan said: ‘Yes. When David gets home from work I'll ask him if he can recommend a good place. You didn't tell me how the shopping expedition went. Did you spend up?'

‘Well. Let's say I had a pretty good try.'

Her mouth went very smug. Jan was still probing the mystery when Martin said: ‘Are you having a party?'

‘A party?' Jan questioned, looking perplexed.

‘Don't be so stupid,' Martin said with a touch of irritation. ‘I know twenty-one isn't the official coming of age, but it's always good for a celebration.'

Twenty-one! On Sunday, which was the day
after
tomorrow, it was her birthday. Her twenty-first birthday. How could she have forgotten that?

‘You always were a blab-mouth, Martin Groves,' her mother said. ‘Did you have to make it so obvious that we've been to Harrogate to shop for Jan's present?' Turning to her daughter she said: ‘It wasn't last minute, honestly. Your main present's been wrapped for ages. I wanted something extra for you.'

‘I'd completely forgotten my birthday,' Jan said stupidly.

‘At your age, dear?' her mother said drily.

‘Did you get something nice?' Martin asked, a little peevishly because he hadn't taken kindly to Muriel Ashton's chiding tone.

‘Something very nice. But you are not going to wheedle it out of me just what.' She stood up and held her hand out towards Stephanie. ‘Would you like me to take you to bed, pet?'

Stephanie went without demur and Jan set the table for her parents and David.

Muriel Ashton came back downstairs. ‘David not here yet?'

‘No. He does have a tendency to forget time when he's involved in something,' Jan admitted, ‘but it's unlike him to be this late, and he's made a special point of being on time since you've been here, so as not to hold up the evening meal.'

‘As far as I'm concerned it's not going to be held up much longer. I'm hungry. If he doesn't
show
up soon, he'll be eating alone.'

Before Jan could comment, Martin popped his head round the door. ‘Anybody any good at tying ties? I refuse to have a night on the town wearing an open-necked shirt.'